Footsteps
by Neon Star
Summary: Glorfindel struggles to make it to the Undying Lands, death at his heels. Not from an enemy, but from himself. Post LOTR
1. Default Chapter

This is the long awaited sequel to I Shall Not Follow, and Broken Soul, Hardened Heart. You don't have to read either to understand this, though I would be happy if you did! :D ;) This first starts out as a 3rd person, then switches into Glorfindel's POV. Obviously I still don't own LOTR, but I'll let you know if I ever do! ;)  
  
  
Footsteps  
  
The last ship docked, and those aboard exited it. Along the shore, Elves gathered to greet the last of their kin. Among these were four who waited anxiously and in vain for the one that was suppose to be coming.  
  
"He is here, Ada, he must be. He swore he would come," Elladan said, his bright gray eyes trailing from his Father to the ship.  
  
Elrond stood silent, watching, waiting. But he knew, and inside his heart trembled with pain. He desperately tried to hold on to hope, but as the last Elf exited the large white ship, it died.  
  
"Nay, something has happened, he is not here," Elrond said softly, turning stormy gray eyes away from the ship to his family.  
  
A family missing two members, one irretrievable, for she had passed from the circles of the world. The other? Lost, and none among them knew where he could be.  
  
Elrohir slipped from his family and went to where his Grandparents stood, embracing. He smiled softly at the reunion, for Celeborn had been on the last ship, and Galadriel had missed him dearly.  
  
"Grandada?" he called softly.  
  
Celeborn turned, and smiled at his grandson before embracing him as well.  
  
"What?" he asked gently as he pulled away.  
  
"Where is Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked softly.  
  
Celeborn's joy slipped from his face, and a troubled expression entered.  
  
"I looked for him, Elrohir, but there was no news of him," Celeborn said.  
  
Elrohir bowed his head, and nodded as he slipped back to his family.  
  
"There was no word of him," Elrond said as Elrohir started to speak up.  
  
"No, Ada, there was not," Elrohir sighed.  
  
"As I feared," Elrond said softly, his eyes trailing back over to the sea, to the land that was hidden from his view.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Grief, horrid, life stealing grief. I have returned to Rivendell, ruined Rivendell, after all these years. There is only broken ruins in place of the great house where I once dwelled. I do not know what has brought me here, all I know is grief, and all I am is grief. It is devouring me even as I stumble. My world is gone, all that I had ever truly loved is gone, and Men have forgotten the roots of their world. For it is their world now, the age of Elves has long since passed. My people have fled this world, the hobbits and dwarfs are long dead or hidden away, and I am alone, the last.  
  
Oh, sorrow, still my heart, let neither blood nor breath flow in me. Let me grow silent and cold, so that I may fade back into Mandos's halls, where I may pass my days remembering good and ill deeds. For death would be better then living. I am alone, and this loneliness threatens to crush me. Let the song be silenced in me, for I have lived for too long! I have died by falling in combat against the Balrog, in which I took the demon with me. Why could I not have remained dead, for Mandos was better then this existence!   
  
I do not know where I wonder, though these halls are familiar. But soon I sit, and the gray gloom is lifted from my eyes briefly. I am in my rightful place at the right hand of Elrond's abandon throne in the Hall of Fire. Now silent, though I can feel the echo of songs and tales in this ruined chamber.   
  
Oh, Elrond, my despair is upon me like a predator is upon a prey. I am dying, nay, I am already dead.   
  
What is left? Nothing. Nothing remains but broken ruins and one lone Elf who should have passed on long ago.   
  
I have let sorrow consume me. I should not have, I know. But as it is, I had not missed that last ship because I did not wish to leave. Nay, I have been searching for my son, who I now believe is dead. I should not have stayed to look for him, or better yet, I should never have let him go in the first place. But that cannot be helped, and no matter what I might have done, he is dead, and I shall soon follow him.  
  
I can already feel my body growing colder as the grief fills me, extinguishing my life like a candle in a storm.  
  
'Promise me when you are weary of this world that you shall not just lie down and die in grief. Sail to the Undying Lands, and be finally healed of the grief you bear, and so we shall be reunited,' I hear Elrond's words echo in my memory.  
  
"But the Havens are gone, and the last ship has sailed," I answer, as if he was still here to listen to me.   
  
'You must do what your heart tells you, for it has never led you wrong, has it?' my memory echoes.  
  
"My heart tells me to end it," I whisper, but know it is not true.   
  
My heart tells me to fight, to find a way to get to Aman. To be united with my adopted family. To be healed of the burdens I have carried for too long. But how can I do it? I have neither the strength nor the will to go on. But I must. Not only for myself, but also for Elrond, for the brother I left in Mandos's Halls, for my adopted family, and for my son.  
  
The thought of those who wait for me ignites the fire to survive within me, a fire I had thought long dead. I must get up; I must make my way to the sea. Doubts linger on whether I have the strength, and there is no way to banish them. Slowly, I rise to my feet, and nearly fall upon my face. I haven't eaten or slept in several weeks, and it tells upon what strength I have left. But if I allow myself to rest now, I probably would not awaken. Though I have chosen life, my body is still too close to death's touch. I will just have to continue on, and find substance when I can, but rest is too dangerous for me now.  
  
I make my way to the shattered doorframe from where I had entered. As I pass under it, I turn back, and again feel the echo of what has passed. My heart trembles within me at the loneliness I feel, and I turn, leaving behind the past, never looking back. 


	2. Chapter two

I admit. This is possibly the weirdest Glorfindel post I've ever done, and possibly the saddest. Poor Glor, I put him to such problems... As it is, a lot of what he discusses about his past and crimes are mostly my thoughts, and there is a lot of Silm elements here. I'll explain more about things in here in the next post. Sorry for the delay, and hopefully this is good. Thanks for the comments.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Body collapses again; soul wants to break free, pain and numbness one, where is the sea...  
  
Eyes refusing to open, lungs refusing to breathe. Can't give in, can't...  
  
Ground feels so cool, moist, grass brushing my face, whispering of life. Life that I am struggling to keep hold of, and can't.  
  
Rise, please....  
  
Can't....  
  
Dying hurt worse the first time....  
  
But this is truly dying, that was only a rest stop....  
  
Get up...  
  
Arms struggle to push a body too weakened to rise on its own, arms shaking under the strain of such a thin body. Crash once more to the ground, sorrow crushing upon me.  
  
I'm failing, falling, and no one can save me now. Before, before, I had help, now, now I am utterly alone. Ecthelion, I'm sorry my brother....  
  
'Promise me you will go to the Undying Lands after I die.'  
  
Arwen, what if I cannot keep that promise? Do not hold it against me, little one... I pray your brothers will not as well...  
  
Celebrian, Celebrian, I have fulfilled my vow. The last was not alone; I protected them with my soul, until Eru called the last one on. Hopefully your sons are safe within your arms, far from this accursed land.  
  
Idril, my vow... I have given my soul up to your family, and have done what you begged of me at the burning of Gondolin. Cry nevermore, for I never failed you...  
  
Feanor, dear hotheaded friend and enemy, has your thought come true? Has my soul finally burned itself out, long after yours?  
  
'Get up.'  
  
A command.... Who?  
  
Opening my eyes, I look upon the last person I would ever find on Middle Earth, and yet the one foremost in my thoughts since my rebirth.   
  
"Elrond?" I whisper, unable to even rise.  
  
'Nay, an illusion of your thoughts, the last of your will in the only form that can save you. Now get up,' Elrond orders once more.  
  
"I cannot," I answer, caring not that it is only an image from my delirious mind; I need at least one pleasant image before I die.  
  
'Yes you can, you've only given up. Now, get up,' the illusion says, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at me, like Elrond did so at times when he was displeased with me or someone else.  
  
"You always were stubborn..." I sigh, forcing my dying body to my hands and knees once more, but I can do no more, as even if I try to rise further, I would fall once more, and I fear I wouldn't rise.  
  
'Good, that means you are, since I am a piece of your will,' he says, and smirks, 'There is a stream nearby, perhaps you can gain strength after you drink something.'  
  
Sighing once more, I proceed to crawl and drag my body towards the stream he motions to; my senses too weakened to even hear it. My body cries for me to lie back down, and many times I nearly give in, if not for a flash of my illusion of Elrond pushing me on with a look. Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, I finally reach the small stream, and collapse beside it, my strength spent. I don't remember ever being this weak. Yet here I am, barely able to raise my hand....  
  
Closing my eyes, I can feel oblivion at the corners of my mind, waiting patiently to give up my immortal bonds and accept its embracing arms. I find myself wishing ever more for it, though a piece of me still fights, that piece that awoke three weeks ago in ruined Rivendell. But even that piece is succumbing to the weakness and heart sickness within me. It's only a matter of time...  
  
'Glorfindel, get up, drink something,' Elrond's voice seems to be coming from a long way off, and for once, I ignore that voice, sinking deeper into myself.  
  
'Glorfindel! Please!' funny, my illusion sounds so much like Elrond that it hurts to hear his voice, to hear him so afraid.  
  
/It is only an illusion, rest..../ another part of my mind whispers to me.  
  
It seems right, for how can I hope to get to the Undying Lands? I know I will be breaking my vows to Elrond and Arwen, yet I have not the heart nor strength to complete them.  
  
Forgive me... My thoughts begin to fall to darkness, when a wail hits my fading senses.  
  
'No! You will not fall to death again! Not to this. Ulmo! Manwe! Is this how you would sign my death and return to Mandos? No!' the keening death wail of my last true will, no longer in Elrond's voice but my own, fades in my mind as my hand reaches blindly forward, seemingly of its own accord.  
  
Darkness and oblivion close in on me at my will's death, just as my hand reaches to touch the fast flowing stream. I can feel its smooth, icy water washing over my hand, and for a moment, my mind lingers with the thought of all I am betraying, before I fall to darkness.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Mummers in my ears, whispers in my mind. Can't see, don't want to see. Have I returned to Mandos's halls, and those I have betrayed are scolding me? No, they do not sound like Ecthelion and my beloved, and Elrond is not dead...  
  
'Wake, Glorfindel,' a strong voice reverberates in my mind, and I have no will not to obey.  
  
Opening my eyes, I find myself looking into sea blue ones, that are far from Elven or man, immortal and deep with the knowledge of things beyond even my simple understanding. I felt like a child looking into those ageless eyes, and that I would drown in them, for they were so deep. I know who it is, the knowledge itself imbedded deep within my overlapping soul.   
  
"Ulmo," I whisper, lowering my eyes from his, not daring to meet his gaze again.  
  
"I'm glad to see that you have not entered Mandos's halls a second time, child," Ulmo mummers, and I begin to notice that I am laying with my head rested against his chest, his arms tucked around me, as if to keep me bond to this world.  
  
"Almost," I say softly, then blink in confusion, "Why have you come, hir nin?"  
  
Ulmo smiles sadly at this, and raises my head with one gentle hand, so my eyes meet his.  
  
'I would not have your blood in my waters a second time, child, and you are not only beloved of your people, but of the Valar as well. We do not wish to see our children suffer,' his deep voice resounds further into my soul, yet I hear his words not aloud, only within.  
  
My mind flashes with the suffering my people had sustained for so long, and yet I find I cannot be bitter at his statement, for we truly brought most of it upon ourselves. I was also too weary to truly be bitter with the Valar, especially with he who sent me swiftly through his seas to my dearest friend's aid. Yet memory lingers, and I still remember fire, blood, and death, and not even the memory of Aman itself can wash those wounds away.  
  
'You also called me, and I could not deny such a cry,' he continues, probably well aware of my thoughts, for his eyes darken slightly.  
  
I remember my will's last cry ere it died, and realize what has called him to care for me, one of the lost. Yet, I realize my soul must not be fully dead, or else I would have passed on. Perhaps some strength lies within me yet.   
  
'Come, drink, you still have a vow to fulfill,' Ulmo urges, and raises his hand, which is cupped and the water of his stream fills it.   
  
Putting his hand to my lips, I cannot do more then allow the water to enter within, and drink my fill. A small amount of life seems to return to my weary limbs, as I taste the sweet clear water Ulmo offers me, the first that I have taken in a long time. When I am finished, he pulls away, and smiles once more at me.  
  
"Now, you must continue on, for those in Aman await you, fearing that you indeed have passed on, or lost within a world changed," Ulmo says, helping me to sit up.  
  
I do so, and then slowly he helps me to my feet, where I stand swaying in his hold. I do not know if I have the strength, but there is some left within me now, fueled by the stream of Ulmo, and of my own hard will. It has been too long since I have had to depend upon such a will, but I know it will at least carry me a few steps further.  
  
"Follow the stream, and you shall find the sea," he says, slowly letting me go.   
  
Turning, I grasp his arm once more, half to keep myself standing, half to stay him. I take a moment to get over the sense of water that his robes hold, and the gentle but firm strength I feel within him.  
  
"Hir nin, may I ask you one thing more?" I ask, looking up into that ageless face.  
  
"Speak," he bids, and I know he knows what I wish to ask.  
  
"My son, has he passed on or has his feet led him to the Western shore?" I ask, my heart burning more within me; my pain and hope binding together at the thought of my son.  
  
"Either way he has gone there, and awaits you," Ulmo says, the sighs softly, "But even the strongest hearts will break. He passed through the halls of Mandos swiftly, as his father before him, though he shall never set foot again upon these shores."  
  
I bow my head, my heart quaking within me. I had never wished for death for my son. If only I had followed him...  
  
"Do not grieve for him, he gave his life freely for another and he is now with the one he loves. Come, go to the shore," Ulmo says, laying a hand upon my shoulder once more.  
  
"I cannot. My grieve sunders my remaining strength," I whisper, tears long withheld slipping down my face.  
  
He tilts my head up, "If you pass on to Mandos's Halls once more, I cannot promise you will pass from them as quickly, second born, if you would pass at all with how darkness has held you in thrall many a time," he warns.  
  
Memories assault my pledged mind, of my crimes before the counting of the sun, back to when the land was still covered in darkness, and the Trees were yet to be. My crimes after in Aman, my blade slaying those who would step in my way back to the lands in which I had suffered so much. The horrors of war, and the bonds that Morgoth lay upon my soul coming to bear horrid consequences. My failing to save my own soul brother, and my own foul death in the midst of fire and darkness. My return, innocent yet not, for the Valar put power beyond imagine in my being. Again the horrors of war, again my blood mixed with those I had slained. My son renouncing me, hating me. Darkness's hold again upon my soul. So much, too much... Eru help me!  
  
Sobbing, I fall to my knees. All that I have done, I have not the right to leave Mandos again. Despair, pain unimaginable falls upon me, tearing my darkened soul to shreds, and all I can do is cry in the midst of the carnage. This is the first time I have let myself bind my lives together, let the horror of all that I have done pass through me, and I feel as if fire beyond all imagine has come to claim my soul. I have not the will to live!  
  
Darkness descends, and I readily give into it, hoping now that Ulmo knows all that I have done, will let me die this time...  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
To awake once more the sound of the sea, and the feel of salty water washing over me. For one delirious moment, I believe I am back in the land where I first awaken, and my deeds are yet undone. But that land that I awoke within is long gone, and it never had salty waters.  
  
Opening my eyes, I look upon the blue green waves that wash around and over me, and then my ears pick up a sad, sweet song. My heart, cold till now, stirs under it, and I force myself to rise.  
  
Ulmo must have brought me to the shore, though why? Why would he save such as I, whose footsteps still echo within the halls of the dead?  
  
The song stills, and I have yet to see its singer, though deep within, I know who it is.  
  
"Glorfindel, I would have thought you would pass from these shores long ago," a voice, sweet and somber, says behind me.  
  
Turning, I nearly fall in my weakness, then nod to the speaker in half hearted greeting, "Maglor, I would have thought the same of you."  
  
"Nay, old friend, the hands of a kinslayer are too stained to work within the borders of Aman. Middle Earth is the only place marred enough for one such as I," Maglor says, his eyes glancing at my weary frame, "Yet what would keep one such as you here?"  
  
I would laugh bitterly if I had the strength, "My own crimes hold me here, as yours do."  
  
"Your crimes? What such crimes do you speak of, except those of which I know of, for you were not responsible for those slayings," Maglor said, coming slightly closer.  
  
"And why should I not be blamed for those? I was at fault for them as well," I say.  
  
"Ah, but was it not my Father's fiery soul and words which ignited your heart? Was it not your bitterness against Morgoth for the darkness he had wrote upon your soul while you lay captured in his dark halls that sent you forth to wrote vengeance against him? Was it not Morgoth who murdered Ecthelion and you, and was it not the Valar who gave you such a burden of power upon your return? Was it not Sauron who resurrected Morgoth's bond on your soul, and was it not Sauron who warped this world further? You blame yourself for what others forced upon you," Maglor say softly, and I wonder at how he knew of those which he had not been part of.  
  
"Ulmo sends me word of what has transpired, and Elrond briefly came to me to try to convince me to go with him. He told me of your falls, and your rises. You are not to blame, as I am not," Maglor says, and smiles sadly.  
  
I start at that, if he did not blame himself, why was he still here?  
  
"I have only come to that conclusion a while ago myself. It was not all my fault, nor my brothers' or my Father's, it was the unfortunate fate we signed ourselves to. It was foretold by Eru to the ears of Namo alone, we are only working for the ultimate glory at the end. And if the Valar and those I have wronged forgive me, I can perhaps forgive myself, as can you. Your footsteps lead from the dark places, yes, but they are only echoes, and you have come out alive, not whole or unscathed, but alive. Can you not accept it?" he asks my gently, his dark eyes holding mine, reflecting wonder and peace that he has long been without.  
  
His words strike upon my soul, washing through my wounds and shadows, reaching the small fading spark within, igniting it like if Feanor was once more speaking, yet this fire wasn't of anger, but of wonder, and possible chance for peace.  
  
"I do not know if I can yet. So much has passed. But perhaps I can," I say finally, and I know it is true.  
  
Maglor smiles slightly, "Then perhaps I shall not have to travel to the Undying Lands alone. Will you come?"  
  
He gestures to a place a ways off, where a small boat lays half hidden in the shadows of a coup of trees. Smiling slightly myself, I turn back to him, and nod.  
  
"Good, then come. We sail, and leave our fates to the Valar to see if they have forgiven us our crimes," he says, his smile turning ironic as he leads me down to where the boat rests. 


	3. Chapter three

The final post to Footsteps. Thank you very much for your welcomed comments, you've all have given me the will to write one final piece to Glorfindel's travels, and I really thank you for being very kind with your words. :) Expect the sequel, Welcome Home, to be up within a day or so! :)  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The boat rocks beneath us in a soothing motion as we drift on, at the mercy of the Valar, and the weather. Maglor sits quietly at the front, his long body curled loosely as he watches for the far shore, while I sit here at the back, concentrating on keeping my heart beating, to keep breathing.  
  
A few days ago, when we had set out, I had thought I had finally found peace within myself, only to find that it was not so. Despair set upon me the second day we were out, and the third day sent me seeking solace within myself. Only the thought of returning home to my family has kept me clinging to my life, to try to forget my dark dreams.   
  
"We are coming upon it," Maglor mutters quietly, as if to himself.  
  
This separation from the land we had strived to go to is working against him as well. He rarely sings now, and has seemed to withdraw within. Only reaching the far shore will save us now, for we will surely die if we try to return to Arda, or if we are left upon the waves much longer.  
  
Turning, Maglor looks upon me, as if for the first time in days. His eyes are weary, as if he has not rested in days, while all I have done is rest, for there is little else. I know it is dangerous for one such as I to do so, when as weak as I am. Yet, sleep beckons often, and I have little will to resist it.  
  
Crawling to my side, he sits beside me, curling against me in an act of old trust, left over from the days when he was a child, and I had seen to him when his family could not. It is a comfort to have such trust still, and grounds me further to staying alive.  
  
A soft melody whispers past the second son of Feanor's lips, echoing a song of homecoming, yet it is married by sorrow, yet it is beautiful. Reaching out, I gently brush a hair tenderly from his face, in a responding act of trust, and friendship as we once shared. My mind wonders at what had brought us apart, what had sundered his family from mine, and I am glad that there can be some small amends. Yet how would the others look upon him, the last of his line?  
  
My mind turns from that ill thought, and I resolve to protect him, for among all of Feanor's sons, he was the most reluctant to take up the sword, and tried to heal where he destroyed in his father's name. He was the one to care for Elrond and Elros is their youth, and had been one of Ecthelion's greatest younger friends. I cannot turn my back on him, for that would be saying that if he does not deserve to be forgiven, and if that is so then neither should I, for I had a hand in some of his crimes.  
  
Time passes as we lay here, unable to do more then wait. One cannot paddle to Valinor, no, one must let the Valar give one entrance, and guide them there. Unfortunately, if the Valar do not decide soon whether we are worthy or not, we are going to die, for neither of us will eat, and barely drink the scarce water we brought with us, for we have not the will in the midst of our judgment.  
  
Maglor's song dies off, though the echoes of it roll upon the waves, and he lays his head down upon my shoulder.  
  
"We shall die, won't we?" he mummers, his eyes shimmering with tears.  
  
I know not how to truly answer him, yet somehow I must give him hope, even false hope.   
  
"Perhaps not, for did Ulmo himself not send us upon this quest for the other land?" I ask, resting my head on top of his.  
  
"So he did, and so we must have hope," he says softly, his voice fading in his weariness.  
  
"Rest, Maglor," I whisper, closing my own eyes as again sleep descends upon me.  
  
I feel him shift slightly, and then his breathing becomes quiet in rest. Smiling at how quickly he has gone, I follow him into dreams, the last thought of if we will awake again whispering in my mind before I go.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Half awareness floods me as I feel hands flitter over my weary form, gently lifting me from the boat, which I can briefly feel has stopped moving.   
  
Moaning in protest, I half-heartedly reach out to Maglor, reluctant to leave him to whoever it is that has come upon us, but my hand is caught, and a soft murmuring comes to my ear, but I cannot make out what the being says. Hands brush my temple, and the being almost seems alarmed, ordering sharply in a language I understand as Quenya. Trying to force my eyes open, I can do little more then squint as moon light floods them, and a blurred look at dark hair. Moaning again, I shut them, and blindly reach up weakly, only to have my hand caught again, and someone whispering strange words in my ear, though the words are soothing, that is the only thing I can make out.   
  
Forcing my lips to move, I try to voice my concerns for my companion, but only hear a dry rustle from my throat. Hands steal over my face, gentle and soothing, and then water is brought to my painfully dry, cracked lips.   
  
Another set of sharp orders, and suddenly I am set in someone's arms. A concerned mummer in my ear, in a voice that should be familiar to me, though I cannot place it in the fog of my mind, yet I am comforted and relax in this strange being's arms. My delirious mind conjures that it must be an Elf, for the voice is too musical to be mortal, yet my heart whispers no to the thought, for we could not have reached the Blessed Realm, our kin have all gone, and Maglor is far too weak to lift me. So, it must be some mortals, who have found our ship. Too bad their efforts will be in vain, for even now my body grows cold, and death is upon me.   
  
Just before I slip not into sleep, but oblivion, for no sleep could feel so final, a strong hand grips my chin, and another forces one of my eyes open. Light, not of the moon but of soul fire, streams into my eye, burning it, but the agony I should feel is faint, for I am almost beyond such feelings.  
  
A sharp, harsh, commanding tone comes to my ears, and a hand is placed on where my struggling heart is starting to cease its life radiating rhythm. I ignore the tone, the voice, the world that struggles to hold onto my fleeing soul, yet even now it slips away, and I can feel Mandos's gates open to receive me. Only a bit more, and nothing will hold me back...  
  
A sharp jab of healing power floods me, tingling through my nerves like a current of living energy, and just for a brief moment, I consider forcing myself to breath again, but death looms too near, and I am denied the strength to do it. But the one sending me such power does not give up, and another bolt runs raging through me, sparking my heart to beat just a little longer, but what is a body without a soul?  
  
It slowly comes to me that I cannot be within the lands of my birth, for that energy comes not from any mortal, but an Elven soul, tainted the slightest bit with mortal feel. I know that soul, better then I know my own, yet I cannot respond to his summons, though my heart cries out against my body's collapse.   
  
His voice sounds again in my ear, sharp, crystal clear. I know he is calling my name, and my heart fervently wishes to respond, but darkness closes rapidly over me, and I cannot fight any longer. Forgive me, mellon nin.  
  
Suddenly his touch, his energy, his soul, is gone, and I wonder if I am dead and even Mandos has rejected me when a brilliant flash echoes through me, the shock wave of it forcing me to breath. I can feel myself gasp, my body struggle faintly, then another flash, stronger, more powerful then before. This is no healers' energy; this is pure soul fire being transferred to me, forcing me to live. My struggling heart picks up this natural rhythm as my lungs finally ender breath. Life courses through me, and I suddenly have the strength to fight death, to open my eyes to the land of my heart. I do so, to behold smoldering gray eyes tinged slightly green; yet seem to burn from fire. I know those eyes, and I am surprised, I did not think he would return from Mandos.  
  
The face above me smiles, and I briefly notice that where I had thought him solid is but the shadow of another shining through him. So Feanor has truly not returned, only come to prevent another from entering into the Halls. I know not whether to be grateful or to cry in despair. My mind swiftly turns from that thought, to my companion, only to have even that shattered within me as a second figure joins the side of Feanor. Maglor... My heart weeps for the loss of my friend, but he only smiles slightly, seemingly hail and whole for the first time in Ages.  
  
/It is all right, Glorfindel. My father wishes me home, to be united with my brothers, with my family. Your place is not among the dead, for your family is among the living. Do not let your crimes plague you any longer, for all has been forgiven by Eru and the Valar,/ Maglor's voice rings in my mind, and my soul lightens at his words.  
  
Then Feanor stands, and with one departing smile, walks away, vanishing quickly in a brief spurt of flame, Maglor at his heels. Just as Maglor starts to fade, he turns back, and gives me one last smile.  
  
/Take care of them, Glorfindel, and yourself. Until we meet again,/ he nodded in farewell, and then his soul faded away with the winds.  
  
Sighing, I close my eyes, weariness still pulling at my every nerve and muscle, my mind slowing as sleep closes in. But I cannot let myself go yet, I must do one last thing before I can rest the normal sleep of the weary instead of the dead. Forcing my eyes open, I blindly grasp for the one I seek, my eyesight dim with the shadows of my weariness.  
  
A hand grasps mine, and I smile as my eyes close again, for none can have such a hand that is rough from wielding a sword, yet gentle with a healer's strength.   
  
"Mellon nin?" he calls softly, and I would grin had I the strength.  
  
"Yes, Elrond, I've come home," I whisper, then tighten my hand briefly over his, before letting myself fall into the waiting arms of sleep and Elvish dreams.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The warmth of a body near mine, the smell of elanors, the slight tickling of hair against my chest welcomes me as I awaken. I snuggle closer, wrapping an arm around an all too familiar form, and smile, burying my face in her hair, not daring to open my eyes if this is a dream. She shifts, turning to face me, and gently kisses my lips, before wrapping her own arm around me, pressing herself against me as she leans her forehead against mine.  
  
"Open your eyes, beloved," she whispers, and I do as she bids, praying this isn't another cruel dream.  
  
To find it not a dream, but real, for here my wife lays with me, alive and well within my arms. Drawing a sharp, I reach a trembling hand to her cheek, touching the smooth, gentle flesh, unmarried by the crossing over the cruel Ice, or time, or death. My wife, as I remembered her during the time of the trees, when we only courted. But her clear blue eyes mark the woman that I married in Gondolin, the shadow of a woman that has seen much, and has never let it break her.   
  
"Oh, Encaitarince," I say softly, running my hand from her cheek to her neck, where I can feel the warm pulse of her heart, and my heart resounds with hers in a rhythm that only two lovers can ever achieve.  
  
I have not let myself think of her since my return to Middle Earth, except on the late nights when my dark past came to crush my soul. Her memory had been a candle to me then, though at other times the thought of her hurt too much to bare, and I blocked her out. Now, now I have no need to, thus my love pours from me like a broken dam, and tears pour from my eyes. She only gently kisses them away with her lips, soothing me when the slight rubbing of her hands along my back until no more tears are shed, for tears are not meant for Valinor.  
  
"Welcome home, beloved," she whispers, kissing me once again.   
  
I then hold her close, wondering at how long its been since we've lain here like this, our arms tangled in a lover's embrace, our hearts beating as one, our souls resonating with the love we have sorely missed. Its been far too long, and I hunger only to lay with her, remembering not a thing of the past, and worrying not for the future.  
  
Smiling, she pulls away, but only by a hands breath, her own golden hair glimmering in the sunshine, "I wish we could just stay here. But there are others that wish to welcome you."  
  
I nearly pout, old familiar habits coming at her touch, but not quite, because I know she is right. My family, adopted and blood related, must be waiting for me to awaken, and I know I cannot keep them waiting.  
  
"Come now, we shall enjoy our time once you assure them you are well. You gave us all quite a scare two days ago," she says, her eyes darkening a little.  
  
"Two days?" I ask, though it does not surprise me, for I was indeed weary enough to sleep that long.  
  
"Yes, Elrond and Ecthelion were especially worried. They almost wouldn't let me in until they knew you were well," she says, a twinkle in her eyes.  
  
I laugh, for the first time in a long time, and my heart swells with its sound, "Ai, my beautiful, stubborn wife! I am glad to see you have won," and I kiss her.  
  
She giggles, her voice twinkling as the dark look of worry passes from her eyes, "Ah, Ecthelion could never keep me from you, but Elrond would not have fallen had it not been for Celebrian. She is who you should thank, or else I would not have been here."  
  
"Then I shall thank her, after I thank you," I say, kissing her again, then edging my wondering lips down her jaw line, to her neck and would go further if not for her hand gently forcing me away.  
  
"That shall come later, beloved, for we have much to catch up on," she says, that twinkle again in her eyes, oh how I've missed that, "But first, we must meet those that await you, and assure them of your health. Also, our son wishes to speak with you."  
  
I sigh, nodding, and follow her out of bed, knowing that I am defeated. She hands me a long white robe, and I smile fondly at the old embroidered symbol of my house upon its breast. Slipping on first a pair of black pants, and a gray tunic, I then put on the robe, and lash it into place. I am surprise slightly that my clothes that I left here still remain, but it is a comfort to be within them once more. My wife smiles at me as she dresses as well, then when finished, takes my hand, and leads me to the door.  
  
The hall we walk through reminds me of Rivendell, and for once, the memory is not painful. I know this to be my lord's house, and I am please to know that he has rediscovered his purpose and his life here within the Undying Lands.   
  
Finally we reach a large chamber, and I spot my family and dearest friends waiting for us. Grinning, I hold tight to my wife's hand, feeling that I am now truly home, and the echoes of the footsteps of my past can no longer pain me.  
  
Stepping forward, I release her hand, and bow in a flourish, beginning to feel like myself once more, no longer burdened with all my shadows and pains. It is a good feeling.  
  
"My dearest family, it is good to be home," I say, and I know it is true. 


End file.
